


Dead Men Rise Up Never

by BigSciencyBrain



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigSciencyBrain/pseuds/BigSciencyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Someone didn't pay attention to Miranda, now the crew of Serenity are left to fight where they can, run when they can't and mostly just try to stay alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Men Rise Up Never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Glinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glinda/gifts).



Warm air buffeted Kaylee’s face. It smelled of dirt and hydraulics. She wrinkled her nose, sniffing at the wind that was bringing the scent of the Eavesdown Docks into the cargo hold of Serenity. There was a cold, metallic edge beneath all the layers of earth, with its hints of over ripe humanity. No two space ports had the same sort of smell to them. Simon had called it a bouquet once, but she reckoned he hadn’t really been comparing them to flowers.

“Time’s a-wasting and we got neither time nor money to be letting go.” Mal’s heavy boots sounded against the floor panels. “Jayne, you aiming to earn your wage today or you gonna stay home and curl your hair?”

Jayne grumbled a response that was just out of Kaylee’s hearing. Probably weren’t worth asking him to repeat it. Instead, she pulled her hair tighter into the cord at the nape of her neck and set down the ramp to pick herself out a calling spot. After unfolding her chair, she situated herself to be comfortable and popped open her parasol.

Parasol. That’s what Simon called it. She smiled at the fancy word and twirled it a little, letting the stem roll lightly between her fingers.

Mal gave her a quick glance as he passed her. “Don’t go turning away anyone who’s got money.”

“Don’t you worry, Cap’n,” Kaylee reassured him cheerfully. She waved to Zoe and Jayne as they followed after, lugging heavy crates on the roller stretchers between them. Looked light as a feather went Zoe did it, but Kaylee had tried to lift one of the gorram things before they landed and she knew better.

“Nice weather.” Simon squinted up at the dull sun that filled the sky like a fat, orange balloon. “For Persephone.”

She smiled up at him because she knew he was trying not to breathe in any more of Persephone than he had to and twirled her parasol a few more times. “Keep me company?”

He settled down onto the side rail of the loading ramp with only the slightest hesitation at getting his britches dirty. It was progress, sure, but she’d be a mite sad to see the day when the last of his proper upbringing faded away. He looked uncomfortable but not unhappy to sit in the sunshine with her. “Where do you think we’ll go next?”

“Be nice to get a bit closer to the Core soon. Been considering fix’n up a few of the coupling links.” She glanced out at the bustle of the port around them as she thought about what she’d need to retrofit the couplings. They were old, to be plain, and solid as Serenity herself. But weren’t no woman in the ‘verse would say no to be freshened up a little, not even if she were a ship. “Not much chance of finding that ‘round here.”

Of course, Simon didn’t have to tell her that heading toward the Core was about as far from the Captain’s as could get. None of them had an argument against that. It’d been near half a year since they buried Wash and the Shepherd, but they still didn’t know if’n the men who’d made Miranda were still looking for them. The waves had gone silent. Not even a peep about River or Simon or the Serenity. It was near all about the Reavers now.

All about how the Alliance was fixing up the mess they’d made and putting things right. News was they’d put up a full scale force to chase the Reavers down, either out into the Black beyond the ‘verse or leave them floating in pieces. Broadcasts said it made Serenity Valley look like a picnic. There were whole shipping lanes had changed now. They’d had to keep track of what was left behind after the Alliance got through blowing Reaver ships apart. Nothing but detris left behind to drift through space with whatever momentum was left to them, just bits of ships and what used to be people.

The word was they’d even sent clean up teams to Miranda to sanitize the settlements. That was another of Simon’s fancy words. Sanitize. But the way he said it, she figured it didn’t have much to do with cleaning.  
She glanced up at Simon and saw that he was thinking along the same lines. His eyes were focused somewhere far away from her and from Persephone. She sighed, softly though so she wouldn’t pull him back from wherever he was, and set to eying the crowd.

With the Alliance warships cruising out into the Rim more than ever, people were moving about again. Some a step ahead of the Alliance, some simply trying to stay out of the way of whatever might come raining down upon them. Maybe they’d done that. Maybe they’d brought the Reavers out of their nest around Miranda and set them loose like a spray of angry hornets on everyone else. Ain’t no man could know for sure, the Captain said and she reckoned he was right.

“Kaylee.” Simon’s voice was full of warning and he was already getting to his feet when she looked to her left and saw the man.

Neither of them spoke as the Operative moved through the crowd toward them. He looked different now. There was grey in his hair and in the thick stubble on his face. His clothes were regular and he near blended into the crowd. She looked for a sword but couldn’t see one. That didn’t make him less dangerous but at least she knew he wasn’t going to stab her through right there.

He nodded. “It has been some time.”

“What do you want?” Simon demanded. He held his ground, back straight and head up. Kaylee couldn’t help smiling with pride.

“I am looking for transportation,” the Operative answered simply.

“It’ll be double for you,” Kaylee said, suddenly finding her voice. “Cap’n said he’d kill you next time he put eyes on you. Won’t be any refund if you don’t arrive nowhere.”

“Understood.” He reached beneath the heavy canvas overcoat that he was wearing and when he pulled his hand back, there was a tightly wound roll of cash money in his fingers. “This should be more than enough for payment.”

Kaylee motioned for Simon to take the money. The Captain said not to turn anyone down with ready money and she intended to follow orders. She’d follow him right back into Miranda if it came to that, which was near the most terrifying thing she could think of. She put on her brightest smile and twirled her parasol as though she hadn’t a care in the world. “Welcome aboard.”

*-*

Mal had known trouble was brewing from the moment they’d landed. He could smell it in the air. Persephone always smelled that way just before the ‘verse chose to turn itself all upside down and shake until trouble fell out. Usually it fell right into the laps of him and his crew.

But he did manage to maintain his calm when Kaylee twirled her parasol and beamed up at him. She’d been so proud of herself and of Simon. Simon was so brave, Simon was so handsome. To him, it seemed like Simon was itching to get as far as possible away from the man who’d killed two of his crew. Which was sensible, considering how smart Simon and his slightly less than stable sister were supposed to be.

He realized that he’d reached for Zoe, resting his fingers gently on her forearm. As though he would’ve had a chance of stopping her if she’d had a mind to tear the Operative limb from limb.

Zoe raised her left eyebrow slightly, just a hint of a brittle smile showing at the corners of her lips. Weren’t no worry from her then. He nodded, letting her step past him to start up the ramp and disappear into the belly of the ship. She’d be back, he knew, and she’d have a shotgun with her.

Mal addressed the Operative casually. “Reckon it’s a fine sunny day to be committing suicide. If’n that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I have offered payment for transportation.” The man inclined his head to Simon, who held up the roll of cash money. “I mean no harm to you or yours.”

He couldn’t quite keep from twitching, phantom pain from healed wounds flaring up again. After a moment, he nodded to Simon. That was cue that he could take Kaylee out to the market for supplies and whatever canned food came cheapest. Whatever business there was could be settled between him and the Alliance stranger. Although no longer bound to the Alliance, the Operative had the look of it and that wouldn’t shake off easy.  
“Where you aiming to go?” he asked, partly to fill up the silence that was beginning to stretch out around them. People were starting to stare and that never ended well.

“Londinium. Where it all began,” the Operative answered, his voice smooth as ever. Only the grey in his hair and the wrinkles around his eyes gave hint that he had aged far more than was fitting for half a year passed. “It is not over, Captain Reynolds. This…war…is only the beginning.”

“Ain’t no war. Just cleaning up their own mess far as I can see.” He didn’t bother to mention that getting Serenity through to Londinium weren’t even remotely possible with the blockades and patrols the Alliance had filling up the sky.

“Because that’s all they want you to see.” For a moment, he looked ready to say more, but he smiled instead and whatever else had been on his tongue stayed there.

“I see you’re making about as much sense as you ever did. But you patched us up and I ain’t forgot that.” Mal shrugged, half nodding up the ramp and toward Zoe as he did. Sure enough, her favorite shotgun was cradled in her arms, the barrel trained on the Operative. The roll of money slid into his jacket pocket with a pleasing weight. Despite its source, it would do more to keep Serenity in the air than five jobs from Badger. “Zoe’ll show you to passenger quarters. You’ll do best to stay there and out of my way.”

He followed the man up the ramp and stopped there, half turned toward the busy noise of the space port and half toward the stillness within Serenity. Jayne had wandered off after Simon and Kaylee, most likely he was looking to spend his newfound wages in a manner which Mal had no desire to know about. Kaylee would come home with a box of this and that, swearing that it was all needsome to keep flying; and Simon trailing after her with another slim hope of keeping River with them permanently. It weren’t for lack of his trying that she was slippery as a river rushing down to the sea.

“Dead men rise up never,” said a soft, feminine voice at his side.

Mal didn’t need to turn to know it was River had come to stand by him. “That they don’t, little one. That they don’t.” He turned his head just enough to catch her profile out of the corner of his eye. “You think I done right, letting that man onboard?”

River swayed, her head tipping to the side as she thought. Or listened. He often thought that was what she did when she was listening to the world about her. Then she’d catch a thread and start pulling until she’d pulled the thoughts right out of someone’s head. It was a mystery to him how it worked, but there had been plenty of his own thoughts that she’d plucked out of the air between them.

Finally, she spoke. “Means what he says. Believes.” That brought back memories of the Shepherd.

Man like that believes hard, doesn’t ask why.

Shifting his stance, he let his hand fall to the gun on his belt and the reassurance that it offered. If the Operative believed there was more to the Alliance’s determination to wipe out the Reavers, he probably had good cause. A man like that knew plenty of the Alliance’s secrets himself. He’d know how it worked, deep on the inside where no one out here on the Rim ever saw. The secret heart of the Alliance where wars were begun and girls like River had their brains scrambled for no other reason than the Alliance wanted to see what happened. Could be useful to know a few of those secrets himself.

Now that the Alliance was pushing further out into the Rim, all in the name of undoing the wrong they’d done to Miranda, they’d become near unavoidable. Not a shipping lane between the worlds that didn’t have an Alliance ship patrolling for what was left of the Reavers. They were boarding more ships, asking for more papers, and generally making life that much harder for those eking out a life on the raggedly edge.

Weren’t the first time he’d wondered if the Alliance was hiding a darker purpose under the bright, shining crusade against the Reavers.

“You know what he’s looking for?” he asked, not entirely expecting an answer that made any sense.

River was quiet for a long moment; that unnerving quiet that always seemed to be the calm before the storm. Then she turned and looked him square in the eye, unblinking. “Enlightened people seldom or never possess a sense of responsibility.” After a moment, she looked up at the sky and frowned.

There was barest pinprick of shape and form visible between the clouds, leaving a thin streak trailing behind it. Another Alliance patrol ship, most like, punching through atmo and headed for Eavesdown. One more inspection, one more parade of boots tromping through his ship in the name of eradicating the Reavers. He’d never gotten much in the way of actual explanation as to how the inspections helped them find much that had anything to do with Reavers, but logic weren’t never the Alliance’s strong suit. Better they were off the ground by the time the Alliance started digging through people’s lives.

Mal sighed, closing his hand around the handle of his pistol. “Conjure you’re right about that. Send out a call to Kaylee and that handsome brother of yours, tell 'em to hurry back. I ain’t got a mind to be waitin’ round for them to find out I’m harboring more than my fair share of Alliance fugitives.”

*-*

River hadn’t expected them to lock her in a cell. She’d expected needles and liquids and heavy leather straps tugged tight over her arms and legs.

Standing in the center of her prison cell, she could almost touch both walls with her arms stretched out like a bird in flight. It gave the room the feel of ship quarters. A small sink and toilet unit folded out from the wall; solidly hinged inside the wall where she couldn’t reach. The water that bubbled from the faucet was tepid and rolled smooth over her tongue and skin, indicating a high mineral content. Slender lights curled into circles hummed softly above her. They reminded her of sleeping insects tucked into cocoons and snoring a soft, electronic buzz. She balanced carefully on the supporting rods of the cot and searched for a weakness around the lights, but found nothing. There was no access from within the room.

She searched the narrow room until her back ached and her knees couldn’t take the rough cold of the metal floor panels any longer. Her fingers explored every crack, every crevice, and every thread woven tight into fabric and composite. Without Simon to tell her what was real and what wasn’t, she was lost.  
Without Simon, without Simon.

It looked like a thread inside her mind as she pulled and tugged at it, unraveling the wall panel inch by inch and hoping for an escape. But then it melted away and all she had were bloody fingers trying to peel back a corner of sheet metal. She wrapped her fingers in strips torn from the thin blanket that draped over the narrow cot.

She was trapped.

Goosebumps spread over her arms and shoulders in waves and she shivered, tightening into herself as much as she could. Exhausted, she lay down on the cot, pulled her knees tight against her chest, and pulled the ragged blanket over as much of her as it would cover. It provided little warmth and even less comfort, but she clutched it until her knuckles whitened.

Time passed. She didn’t know how much. Her shoulders and knees ached when she finally stirred, shifting enough to get blood flowing again. That’s when she heard the silence.

Emptiness.

No whispers, no mumbling in the background, no quiet thoughts drifting through the space between her and the others. No guards outside her door wondering who or what they were standing watch over.

She rolled onto her back and let her legs stretch out, hands flat over her stomach. Her feet dangled over the end of the cot; the leather of her boots sliding against the canvas as she let her ankles rotate. The soles hit together with a soft, rhythmic _thunk_ that she could barely hear in the heavy silence. _Thunk, thunk, thunk._ One, two, three. She counted to ten, just as Simon had taught her, clicking her feet together in an easy tempo. One, two, three.

And she listened.

There was no hidden rumble of Serenity’s beating heart deep within the walls, but the soft rush of air through the ducts was almost familiar. A recirculator, using compression and fans to drive the air. She was surrounded by the sound of rushing, tumbling air. Above her, beneath her. That meant she was deep inside the belly of a manmade monster. A monster bred of steel and stonework.

She closed her eyes. She marked the sound of the lights in her mind and then silenced them from her thoughts. Then the air handlers; she marked and silenced them too. She imagined that her mind was stretching out through the walls, following the ducts as they twisted and elbowed. Followed the blood-pulse of the air and let it carry her mind along, listening at each turning point. Searching as she had fruitlessly searched her room. For Simon, for Kaylee, for anyone whose thoughts were familiar to her.

The feeling in her toes and fingers began to fade, as though she was physically dissolving as she cast her mind further and further into the spaces beyond.

She found Jayne first.

He was sleeping, fitfully. His dreams were filled with thoughts that scattered like chickens dashing out from a spray of buckshot. In all his dreams, he wore his mother’s hat and kept tugging at the pulls because it kept getting smaller and smaller as he got further and further from his mama. He couldn’t understand why and just kept tugging at them.

A sharp inhalation pulled her back, as her body remembered to breathe. It had forgotten in the spaces where her mind had gone. She came back into herself and breathed deep, mouth open and swallowing down air.

She had found Jayne. It meant he had survived the ambush and if he had, maybe the others had as well.

It hadn’t been a simple plan. But since simple plans didn’t seem to work out much for the crew of Serenity, the complexity hadn’t seem too bad a thing. There had been danger, they’d known that. A mere chance that they could slip in and find what was truth behind the Alliance’s drive to eradicate the Reavers. A chance was all they had wanted and the Operative had shown them a way. She felt his resolve, heard his belief inside her head. She had known he meant to help them in his way; told the Captain to follow and to trust.

The Operative had been the first to respond when the Alliance security troops appeared, surrounding them in seconds, and she’d felt his thoughts snuff out like a candle when they’d cut him down. There had been fear and pain and, above all, regret. Regret for what his life had been and what it hadn’t been.

She pushed those memories away.

When she tried again to cast her mind out with the air, it didn’t budge and she was anchored down into her body. Exhaustion made her body colder than the room. She had to wait and breathe. Darkness drifted up around her and she lost hold of time again, let it slip through her fingers as she slept.

The second time, she followed her mind’s footprints. Found Jayne again, still asleep, then worked out in a circle. She found Kaylee next, felt the lingering ache of the tears she’d shed before falling into sleep. Tears for Simon and for her and the rest of the crew.

Zoe was awake inside her cell. She’d searched the entire room, just as River had, and was searching it thoroughly yet another time in case she’d missed some small detail. Her mind was calm and patient, waiting for a change in events and for the tables the turn. The tables always turned. And if’n they didn’t, that weren’t too bad. There was a sliver of sunlight and peace, deep within Zoe’s mind, that was filled with memories of Wash. If this was her time to go then she was ready to embrace that peace and follow Wash into whatever came next. There was no fear in Zoe, only acceptance of what the ‘verse gave her.

Again, she was pulled back into herself with a harsh breath. This time, her head pounding from oxygen deprivation and exertion. She was impatient with her own physical limitations. She wanted to spread out from herself, winging her way through the space and the air without the heaviness and weakness of her limbs. Her mind could be free even deep within this prison beast that had swallowed them down.

She accepted the darkness because she knew it had to happen. Sleep had to come and ease the fatigue before she could continue to search. There was no measure of how long she slept, only the ebb of the bone deep tiredness.  
On her third trip, she found the Captain and Simon. Simon was asleep, worn down from worry like Kaylee. The Captain was pretending to sleep, his mind full of watchfulness and waiting.

_River._

Her eyes flew open, hearing the Captain's voice as clear as day inside her mind.

_River, if’n you can hear me…well, ain’t much you can do seeing as I ain’t a reader like you. But I’m hopeful you found the others too._

She blinked several times, forcing back unexpected tears. She wanted to leap up and yell into the tiny panel that brought air into her cell, but it wasn’t likely her words would reach the Captain. At least, not without the chance of reaching someone her words weren’t meant for.

_River. River, if’n you can hear me._

He repeated the words several more times before he lapsed into silence. She could feel that he was tired and felt a mite ridiculous for talking inside his head, even with the words meant for her.

She pulled her mind away and sent it racing out again, further and further. She had to find the minds behind this. The thoughts that would tell her who they were and what was going to happen. The Captain would be ready when the wind changed and she would be ready too.

That hope kept her impatience at bay as she slept once again. This time, when she awoke, there was a new smell in the room. She blinked against the light and raised her head to look around. There was a tray on the floor beside the door. A tray with a bowl of what smelled like beef stew and a thick crust of bread. Her stomach growled.

Cautiously, she moved off of the cot. Her muscles ached from being still for so long and she stumbled when she tried to stand. On her hands and knees, she made her way to the tray and tugged it back along the floor. The stew was standard. Protein cubes in a thick broth that was synthesized to give the taste of beef and potatoes. She sucked it down hungrily, wiping the bowl clean with pieces of the dense bread. It was real bread though, made of rich, buttery wheat and air.

With a full belly, she returned to her cot and stretched out again, thumping her boots together with a renewed eagerness. Her eyes closed, breathing leveled into a steady in and out. It required relaxation. She had to be able to calm herself enough to let go of her physical self and that was more difficult with hope inside than with fear. Hope flitted and bounced inside like a winged creature stirred into frenzy, while fear huddled like a fat, sullen toad. She caught up her hope and held tight to it, calming it until she could breathe deeply and easily.

She flung her mind out, pushing as hard and as fast as she could. Once again, she checked in on each of the crew and just briefly touched against their minds. Made sure they were still there and breathing. Then she pushed further out, further up; searching for whoever had delivered the food or who was behind their capture. There were others like them, hundreds of unfamiliar minds locked away in cells just like hers. Some quiet with sleep and some churning with a babble of thoughts.

Why hadn’t they been killed like the Operative? The man had been shot down quick as lightning and then rest of them locked away without more than a scratch here or a bruise there.

She pushed harder, climbing up through the air ducts until her mind ached from the exertion of it. Higher up, she found guards. Empty minds with only straggling thoughts of what to fill their time with once their shift ended. She left them behind and kept searching.

It was subtle. She almost missed it.

There was a brush, like the barest touch of a hand against her skin. A presence. She stopped, hovering in space and in the air. Listening. There were no words, just the vague sense of an other. The Other was there with her, in the air and formless. Watching and waiting.

Someone like her.

She pushed again, trying to seek out the Other and trace them back to their physical body. There was a sense of amusement, of a smile playing lightly over lips and teeth. But the Other only slithered away into darkening air ducts as she sought after it. She reached and grasped, feeling it wriggle like an eel and slip from her mind’s eye.

Felt it watching.

The realization hit her sudden and hard. Cold fear prickled against her skin. There was no surprise in this Other, no happiness at having caught an intruder bent on stealing secrets. The Other had planned, had expected, had known they were coming. Maybe not the when nor the how, but they had laid out a trap like a spider’s web across the ‘verse and known that any one of the silken threads would lead them here in the Other’s lair. Now they were here, wrapped up tight and helpless like insects in cocoons.

_River. River, if’n you can hear me. Something’s ain't right._

She caught the sound of the Captain’s voice and used it like a beacon, racing back toward his thoughts and mind. She wanted to scream. Her jaw ached with it. But she was powerless and silent. All she could was listen and tremble.

Gasping, she opened her eyes and sat up, staring wildly around her. The Other was watching them, all of them. Somehow, she knew. It was very interested in seeing what happened as they were left to their silence and solitude. Her boots thumped against the steel floor, knees unsteady as she moved to the door. Futilely, she pounded her hands against the door. There weren’t words formed yet to describe the fear that was blooming inside her, she simply knew.

Knew and was powerless against it. Her fists pounded harder against the door, wordless screams tumbling from her lips.

“No, no,” she whimpered against the door. “Simon. My Simon. Not Simon.”

She pressed her forehead against the cool metal, looking down and blinking tears from her eyes. The gleam from the edge of the metal tray caught her eye. Had it been in the food? Had that been the plan? Her hands went to her stomach involuntarily, but after a moment she had to admit that she felt nothing. Either it hadn’t been in the food or it hadn’t been in her food.

Maybe she could use the tray somehow.

Pulling away from the door, she grabbed at the tray. If she could catch a corner of a panel and pry it up, she might find something of use beneath. A space to crawl into, wires to pull. Anything.

Blood had stained the makeshift bandages wrapped around her fingers before she gave up and returned to the cot, her insides churning with despair. Wrapping her arms tight, she pressed them into her stomach and rocked back and forth. This had been the plan all along.

It was research and they were the rats, with the Other watching over its experiment from a safe distance.

She stared at the door for a long while, overcome with a dread that she still couldn’t find words for. It took effort to unclench her fingers from her arms and lie down once again. She hoped, even prayed, that her end would come peaceful. But she knew that luck wasn’t meant for her. She was meant to listen, just as the Other watched over them. Her breathing steadied only by habit and practice, against every instinct inside her.  
Her mind moved out into the space again, this time with hesitation. Her thoughts shaking just as her hands trembled.

Jayne was still asleep but his dreams had stilled to a unnatural quiet. There were no hats, no images of his mama or words held quiet in the depths of his mind. He had slipped away from her already into a darkness she couldn’t reach.

Kaylee was curled tight around a dream of Simon and a cherubic baby with bright, cherry red cheeks. It was the sole image remaining inside her mind, fixating her and keeping her peaceful even as the darkness crept into her. She was all but gone.

River wanted to scream into their minds and shake them. Shake them both as hard as could as she could. It shouldn’t have happened so quickly. It was too fast. Only hours and they had already slipped away from her.

She pulled away quickly, feeling panic rise, searching out Zoe next. There was a sense in Zoe’s mind that she had been fighting against it. Had somehow known, instinctively, that the feeling weren’t a natural part of her. She’d fought. River could feel the hard edges of Zoe’s last conscious thoughts and the anger against what was happening. It felt as though she was sifting through the ruins of a beautiful, proud city and picking up glittering jewels from the wreckage. There, in the midst of all the wreckage, she found the last remaining piece of Zoe wrapped around the sliver of happiness that had been Wash. Just a shadow remained and would soon be gone.

A sharp breath stuck in her throat and pulled her back. She felt hot tears on her cheeks and couldn’t breathe too well through her nose. The blanket was rough as she scrubbed her tears away with it and blew her nose loudly.

She didn’t bother lying down or relaxing this time. She flung herself out of her body and found Simon. He had been the first to realize what was happening but he hadn’t known how to defend himself. He’d wrapped a strip of blanket over his nose, tried to empty his stomach of the food they’d given him. He was struggling to remember, holding onto his memories like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. She could feel the cold seeping into his shoulder and side. He’d wedged himself into the far corner, hidden from the door in case someone came for the tray. In case there was a chance, even the smallest chance, that he could escape and save the others. Save Kaylee, save River.

 _River_ , he whispered.

She ignored the physical demands of her body, knowing that tears were streaming down her cheeks and she was gasping for air. Her mind stayed there, hanging like a ghost in the air as his breathing steadied and his heart rate slowed. Then he was gone like the others.

Her hands were gripping the sullied blanket so tightly that she registered the faint sound of ripping fabric. They were just rats. Rats in a maze. Rats given drugs just too see how fast they would work, how rapidly they would still and die. The Other would watch them all wither and die with no more concern than they would watch a plant wither in its pot without water.

Only she would be left. Because the Other had wanted her here as a witness. To listen, to learn. To truly understand the mind behind everything that had happened. To feel its emptiness and know that there was no escape.

She swallowed hard, choking on tears, and sought out one last voice.

 _River._ The Captain’s voice sounded strained inside his head, bouncing like a ball inside a vast, hollow room. _Look away right now, you hear me. I don’t want you listening, seeing. You hear me? LOOK AWAY._

She heard the shout as clearly as though he’d been in the room. Felt the hot blood that was pouring down one shoulder and arm. There was a different darkness inside his mind, clawing at him and digging claws into him. Images, fractured and misshaped. He’d torn the narrow cot to pieces with his bare hands and used those pieces to slice into the ceiling and bash the lights into pieces. There, in the dark, with the rage inside eating away at him until there weren’t nothing left.

_River._

A twisted piece of metal cut into his palm. She felt the pain; felt that it was all the defense he had against the black and red madness eating away at his brain. He’d found that piece and ripped it out of the ceiling, two needle sharp prongs meant to carry electricity and light up the particles inside the glass tube. He’d known it was there.

There was a moment of quiet, like the eye of a hurricane, where she could feel the solid core of Malcolm Reynolds as real as could be. A moment. There wasn’t acceptance, like Zoe, or a dream of the past or the possible future like Jayne or Kaylee. No panic or guilt as she’d felt inside Simon. The Captain had known the purpose of the Other just as she’d known, the moment the madness had started to creep in. He hadn’t had to feel that mind to know how it was bent and what it was about. What she felt in the Captain was a bone deep stubbornness and refusal to be anyone’s man. He would go no and he would go as himself, on his own terms. If’n he ruined some of the Alliance’s plans, more the better.

She took a deep breath, held it, and refused to pull away.

_Little albatross...I got faith in you._

A wry smile played across her lips, tears dripping from her chin like rain and splashing down on her clenched fists. More pain lanced through her as the metal prongs cut deep into his skin, slicing open his throat in moments. She felt it and felt both rage and triumph pool together and then blur into the haze of death.

River screamed.


End file.
